


Holiday Festivities

by probablysomehow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Tree, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic destiel, First Christmas, M/M, Merry Christmas!, Second person POV, Wreaths, apartment!AU, gingerbread cookies, neighbors!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 15:57:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2817932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/probablysomehow/pseuds/probablysomehow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are Dean Winchester and you think your landlord has a Christmas-seasoned disease. There are 5 proofs to back up your claim, and the last one's probably not so bad. Probably.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holiday Festivities

You are Dean Winchester and you think your landlord has a Christmas-seasoned disease.

You moved in about six months ago, so you weren't really informed of how Rick (the landlord) goes about in the holidays. Sure, your previous landlord in your previous apartment put some decorations around, but it wasn't like this. You can't really blame him, Christmas is only a month away and everyone's being festive. But he might be a little too festive in that idea. Proof:

 

**1\. His first idea was to put wreaths on every door and insisting that it stay that way.**

 

It is Tuesday and you are hurrying to work. You probably shouldn't have spent so much time with the hot shower. You walk out of your apartment and see the wreath stuck on the door. You're stunned, to say the least, because you obviously didn't put that there yesterday. There wasn't any note, save for the glittery Merry Christmas! on the wreath for added decor. You look around and find that everyone had wreaths on their doors too.

Your next door neighbor, a man about your age who really looked like he didn't have time for such festivities, is surprised too. He moved in roughly two months after you did, but you don't know much about the guy save for the fact that he goes out everyday in office clothes at 7 at the same time you do. Also he has these insanely blue eyes. But that's about it. You find him oddly staring at the wreath in confusion. And you pity him a bit, so you offer, "Probably a prank." to the guy. Which confuses him more when he casts a glance at you, but sort of gives an awkward smile and starts to take the wreath off the hook.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a familiar voice says, and you turn around to see 201 (Mrs. Turner's her real name but you kind of just named the tenants by their apartment numbers in your head.) smiling fondly as she stands outside her door. "Rick's a bit protective of the holiday cheer and demands that the decors stay up." And of course she knows that because she's been here for years before you did anyway. "Oh, well, thanks Mrs. Turner." you smile politely before rushing off the apartment building, leaving 201 and 207 behind. You're not sure if you should expect worst things.

 

**2\. Rick also put up a hugeass Christmas tree by the entrance.**

 

Except you didn't expect the worst things, and you are once again shocked when you see the huge as fuck Christmas tree that looked like it came out of those holiday special magazines.

In your haste to rush to work, you didn't notice the Christmas tree on the doorway. You did, however, notice it on your way back. With snow under your boots and on your jacket, you pause in the heat of the lobby contrasting the cold outside. And so while you're warming up and flicking snow everywhere, you see the hugeass Christmas tree lit up by a fuckton of lights and studded with more decorations possible. That and 207 (you still haven't gotten around to know his name, good for you) is sitting on the lounge couch beside the tree, reading. He's wearing one of those ugly Christmas sweaters, too large and worn, and some sweatpants. You were probably looking a bit longer than you should have, because he looks up and you kind of just nod and bristle back to your apartment. You almost roll your eyes at the decors that hung on the walls and hope to god that Rick didn't break in to decorate your apartment as well.

"Dean?" Mrs Turner's voice calls your attention and you glance at her while unlocking your door. "Hi, Mrs Turner." You greet timidly. "Hello, have you seen Castiel?" she asks, and you furrow your eyebrows. "Castiel?" you repeat stupidly, because hey, you can't blurt out "Who?" without sounding too offensive and rude to the old woman. "Castiel, the man beside yours?" she laughs lightly and you quickly realize that she's referring to 207. Oh, so that's his name, you thought with raised eyebrows.

Mrs Turner laughs again because woops, dumbass, you probably said that out loud. And then you remember she asked you a question. "He's downstairs, sitting near the huge Christmas tree. Was that Rick's idea too or can we take that down?" you ask once again, and this elicits another hearty laugh from her. "Would you mind bringing this to him? His mail was mistakenly delivered to my door and I'd rather not leave it outside his." Mrs Turner hands over a box wrapped in (surprise, surprise) Christmas paper. "Oh, sure." you nod, taking the box and going downstairs.

You see Castiel (you think the name’s kind of weird but it also suited him) still engrossed in his book, and you don’t know how to approach him. Do you just hand it over or do you tap his shoulder or do you start a conversation first or—

But then you find yourself walking over to him and he looks up and how do you even start a conversation when he’s looking at you with those blue eyes. What. “Hi, uh, Castiel?” What the fuck Dean. “I’m Dean, the apartment next to yours. Uh, 201, Mrs Turner, she’s asking me to give this to you? Said this was accidentally delivered to her door. It’s yours.” You explain, and then hand him the box. He looks at you for one second longer before taking it. “Thank you, Dean.” He nods and only then did it occur to you that you've never even heard his voice and wow that was gruff but you really didn't expect what his voice would be so whatever. “Yeah, uh, sure.” You shrug and walk back to your apartment, but your thoughts linger on to how he says your name.

What.

 

**3\. He served gingerbread cookies in the lobby, which wasn't actually all that bad.**

 

Saturday morning, you found yourself too awake to sleep in. You are annoyed, and you want to sleep because you worked on three cars with major injuries yesterday. Your body is sore and you just want to lie down for the rest of the day. But your stomach grumbles in protest, demanding breakfast.

You get up and stretch before heading to your kitchen to get some coffee and whatever's in the fridge.

But of course, there's _nothing_ in the fridge that's easy to eat. There’s that moldy cheese you haven't gotten around to taking out, and some stale bread that's probably still good but not really. Also, there's some greens and other shit that’ll take time to cook (and you don’t have the patience to make a decent breakfast right now), but you can't find any microwaveables. You sigh and check if you have some cup noodles.

You don't.

Because you forgot to pass by the grocery yesterday after your shift.

You want to whine but no one’s here to listen to you be like a child, so you settle on grumbling, drinking more coffee, and dressing up to head to the nearest Gas n’ Sip. You put some coffee in a to-go cup and leave your apartment. The decors’ cheerful atmosphere mocked you, and you want to grumble some more but you see 203 (a little Jones, one of the children of Mr and Mrs Jones) running on the hallway and downstairs to the lobby. That kid isn't exactly the playful type, always keeping to himself. So you find it odd, and follow the kid to the lobby where a table was set up with a banner that reads “Gingerbread Cookies = 50c” scribbled with black marker.

Sam always teased you about your Scrooge attitude, but knew your secret love for gingerbread cookies ever since he was three.

You could stuff your face with those and you’ll probably be full for the rest of the day. So you think about it for a while, just standing there and looking at the people crowd over the table. Then you notice no one was actually manning the cookie distribution. On a closer inspection, you see that there’s a drop off box for dollars. So the amount of cookies you get versus your conscience and honesty is all up to you.

You take a sip of your coffee again, willing yourself not to be a part of this fiasco. You can always buy those packed ones at Gas n’ Sip, and they’d probably be as good as the ones being sold. They’ll do, you think, compared to stealing a cookie from the innocent children clamoring to buy one. But then again, they probably taste really good if people are dying to buy.

There is a cookie in front of you.

You finish sipping your coffee, and notice the hand connected to the cookie, and the arm connected to the hand, and the shoulder connected to the arm, and the body clad in that same ugly sweater connected to the shoulder. And then Castiel is standing in front of you with those perfect blue eyes, offering you the cookie.

“Cookie?” he smiles lopsidedly (and even though he smiles kind of awkwardly, you think it’s kind of cute wait what).

Wait what.

What the hell are you thinking.

Well, you know, it’s okay to check out guys sometimes but you don’t know why you’re noticing Castiel all of a sudden, especially when you spent nearly four months with him already.

No, no stupid blue eyes.

But goddamn that cookie.

“Thanks.” You accept the offending cookie which looked really good, your mouth is already watering. It’s still warm, and the frosting looks great. “Rick’s idea?” you ask. “Yes, I believe he’s doing it for a charity event.” He nods, and sips from his blue-dotted white mug. You guess it's tea because there's that string hanging off. “Oh,” you nod, not really minding the purpose of the cookies. He sits back down his same spot on the lounge couch. Shaking your head because what the hell, you take out your wallet and pluck a couple of bills out before dropping them in the box and taking one of the three plateful of cookies. The children are staring. The parents are staring.

You are holding your gingerbread cookies like a prize.

“What’re you up to?” you ask, sitting down beside him and offering him the plate.

 

**4\. He put on a damned naughty or nice list near the stairs for everyone to see.**

 

Why is 208 the apartment number on the naughty or nice list. Why do you even care.

Cas has turned you into a sap.

Recap of the previous week:

You got to know Cas(tiel) better and settled on Cas because you think Castiel is a mouthful. He kind of brightened up when you accidentally called him Cas, so you stuck with the nickname. You found out he was a journalist for a business magazine, he found out about your auto-repair job. You found out that he’s also great at making coffee, and he found out that you like coffee so he makes you coffee now in exchange for company. And then you found yourselves hanging out at the lobby after 5pm every other day. You snack on gingerbread cookies (you learned to drop a few extra dollars when you buy a plate. The cause may or may not be because Cas was supporting the charity event.) and Cas’s pumpkin spice or peppermint coffee while Rick played various Christmas songs on the speakers on the ceiling. Every. Day.

And you think this is typical for friends.

Except men like you usually hang at bars and not at lobbies, drinking frothy beers and not steaming coffee.

But then again Cas is weird, like the good weird. And it leaves you feeling weird. You’re not sure if it’s good or not.

What if you like him—

Nope nope nope nope-ity nope.

So anyway basically, Cas has turned you into a sap in just two weeks and you are angry because why are you the only person on the naughty list. Well, not really, because 101 (that’s Sergeant Smith, the strictest and unemotional person in the building) is above 208, but that’s a given.

“Maybe it’s because you take too much cookies.” Cas comments beside you after sipping his coffee. You jump at the sneak attack. Seriously, either the dude just appears out of nowhere or is as stealth as a ninja. You don’t know how he knows you were thinking about that, but he does. And you shrug it off.

“No big.” You say nonchalantly. You kind of don’t care, anyway. Except maybe you do. Like 1%. Maybe.

You only buy five cookies tonight instead of the twelve in a plate you used to get. But the next day when you leave for work, your number is still on the naughty list. What are you doing wrong. Why are you getting worked up over this.

When you go to the lobby’s lounge couch to hang with Cas, he’s pursing his lips to hide what looked like a smirk. And you narrow your eyes a bit and sit down, reaching for a mug of peppermint coffee. You take a few sips and he’s not showing any signs that he’s going to say what he wants to, so you roll your eyes. “Okay, spill the beans. What’s gotten you secretive?” you set down your mug as you speak. Cas then smiles, and shake his head. “Rick thinks you don’t have enough holiday cheer.” He announces, and you frown. “You actually talk to Rick.” You deadpan, and he nods, but pauses. “Well, he passed by on my way back to my apartment, so I asked about your issue.” He explains, and you are sinking into humiliation as he continues talking. “No! Cas!” You say exasperatedly, hiding your face in your hands. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked, confused. “Asking him is implying that I care about the list, and I don’t!” you huffed.

And then Cas is laughing why is he laughing.

“You don’t, yet you haven’t gotten a single cookie for tonight.” He points out. “That doesn't mean I’m affected.” You sigh exasperatedly and resume to drinking your mug of coffee. “Well if it helps any, we can try to rekindle your holiday spirit. Knitted sweaters seem to be—” and you stop him there. “No.” you say in an attempt to be serious. No one will ever catch you wearing those ugly sweaters. How dare he suggest that. “Well, if you don’t want to try, we can always try caroling." Cas tries again but you just shake your head again. Sam would probably pay to see you carol. “Don’t even suggest it.” You decline and take a long drink of his peppermint coffee.

You leave the topic at that. But the next morning, you see the list again and below 208 is 207.

You wonder what Cas got himself into.

And when you ask him by the time you got home from work, he sheepishly rubs a hand on his jaw.

“I tried to give him a present and wrote that it was from you. It was a gift from someone to me, so I decided to re-gift it to him. But… I forgot the box had a ‘Merry Christmas, Cas!’ on it.”

 

**5\. He hung mistletoe. Everywhere.**

 

Out of all the shit you had to put up with, this was possibly the worst thing. Also, Rick’s been more active recently ever since he put those fuckers up, trying to catch everyone who stands underneath kiss. He hangs out at the doorman’s place since that’s the best view of the entrance door, because it’s most likely where two people will end up. Like two days ago when 303 (he’s single) and 104 (she’s single) were two innocent people who were back from a snowy day outside. And 303 was in a hurry to get to his apartment but Rick was having none of it and insisted that they kiss because it’s Christmas rules and all that. So 303 kissed 104 and he kind of forgot he was in a hurry. They hang out a lot now.

You know this because you witnessed it with your own eyes when you and Cas were lounging on the lobby couch.

And ever since Rick put them up, you’ve hurt your neck looking up at ceilings to avoid them at all costs. Especially now that Cas sticks with you more often. Dude’s on holiday break already and so are you and since you have no other place to be, you just end up in the lobby goofing around. Well, mostly Cas goofing around since he’s such a goofball and you’re mostly trying to stop his stupid Christmas-related antics.

You were totally wrong by the way. Cas is actually a fucking Christmas enthusiast inside that somehow stoic personality.

It’s the 20th and you are heading to Sam and Jess’s house for the holidays in three days. You remember this because Cas is asking you where you’re spending the 25th. “My brother and his fiancee invited me and everyone else in the family’s going,” and because it’s customary, you add, “you?” Cas shrugs and chews on a gingerbread cookie. “I might have to go back home with my brothers.” He replies and you raise an eyebrow. “You might have to? So, you don’t want to?” you guess, and he offhandedly shrugs and continues to eat his cookie. “It has its ups and downs.” He says vaguely and fixes the lounge table. You pick up your mug as well and finish the last of the plain black coffee you have. Cas’s phone is ringing and you offer to throw away the paper plate with cookie crumbs so he can answer the call. He does and hands you the plate with one hand and answers the phone with the other. You avoid listening in the conversation and turn to throw the trash away in the trashcan near the entrance. You carefully sidestep the mistletoe above you as you do so. Then you walk back to Cas who hangs up on his caller and is fixing the mess on the coffee table. “Well, that was my brother definitely insisting I go home for Christmas.” Cas comments and you smile halfheartedly. “It’s only for a few days.” You attempt to console him. “Five worst days of the year.” He chuckles. The two of you walk to the stairs going upstairs and all would have gone well but someone behind you cleared their throat rather loudly.

Shit.

It’s Rick and you want to pretend you didn’t hear him but you momentarily forgot that Cas is with you and there’s a mistletoe above the last step of the stairs and Cas turns around to acknowledge Rick’s presence and you think the universe might as well eat you up alive the moment you turn around. Cas didn't even have to say anything. Rick’s got that smug smile on his face and he’s pointing up at the mistletoe above you. And you want to snap at him, that this mistletoe thing is bull and you turn to Cas for clarification.

But you can’t because there’s a pair of soft lips against yours.

You blink but can’t really do anything but _feel_ the kiss. It’s soft and gentle, and uncalled for. Definitely unexpected but still very welcome.

The lips pull away and all you can focus on is the pair of blue eyes you've been seeing for the past few weeks.

Cas is smiling, still dorky but kind of adorable, you’ll give him that. And you don’t notice the smile on your face till Rick very rudely interrupts your moment by snickering. You glare at him but Cas is still beaming and you don’t want to spoil the moment. So you lean in and offer, “you wanna watch something at my place tonight?”

The kiss you get again is not because of the mistletoe above you, but you think it’s a ‘yes’ to your invitation.

You are Dean Winchester and your landlord’s Christmas disease might have gotten you something great for the holidays.

**Author's Note:**

> I should update the last part of my other story but it's almost Christmas and I wanted this posted because I'm feeling the holiday cheer. Happy holidays, everyone!!


End file.
